


Ill-Timed Desire

by ponderinfrustration



Series: Tired of the Boys [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Daydreams, F/F, Janine is horny, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:32:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderinfrustration/pseuds/ponderinfrustration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bank man is boring and Janine distracts herself with thoughts of her wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ill-Timed Desire

She’s so turned on it’s unholy. It’s a tingling down in her clitoris, making her break out in a cold sweat. She crosses and uncrosses her legs in a desperate attempt to ease the knot in her stomach, deliberately keeps her breathing calm and even. Now is not the time for such things.

The bank man keeps talking, unaware that his client is no longer listening. Janine nods along, praying that she isn’t selling her life away, and wishes that she were anywhere but here so that Irene could scratch the itch. Terrible word for arousal really, an itch, but it’s the best way to describe it right now.

If she were wearing a skirt, Irene could kneel under the table, as she has so many times in restaurants and pubs, and use her tongue and lips. Kissing, licking, sucking, fingers playing their own part. She could look down and see her head there between her legs, the glossy black hair and pale face, blazing red lips. She’d reach down and grip that hair, urging her in closer and closer and _oh, God yes, there, right there._

And then, when she’s coming down from her high, Irene will kiss her again and again and she’ll be able to taste herself on her wife’s lips and –

“Will that be all, Mrs Kavanagh-Adler?” the bank man asks, breaking into her thoughts.

She nods. “Yes, that would be fine.”

He turns the forms over to her and she signs, her signature a disaster compared to how it usually is, with the all-too-noticeable throbbing between her legs. Christ, she’s aching for it.

Five minutes later, she’s unlocking her car and dialling Irene’s number. Irene answers on the second ring.

“Drop what you’re doing, darling,” Janine says, turning the key in the ignition. “Make the bed and get your cock. I’m going to break every speed limit on the way home and then you’re going to fuck me into the mattress.”

She can hear the lascivious grin in Irene’s voice. “Darling, it would be my pleasure.”


End file.
